


Enlightented

by Kasan_Soulblade



Series: Of Shattered Glass/These Warped Perspectives [15]
Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Dialogue Piece, Gen, Relgious disagreement, discussion of devotion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 22:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1321654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kasan_Soulblade/pseuds/Kasan_Soulblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during "Tales of an Iselian Tiger"  part of the ""Foundations of a fall" arch.</p><p>They were both devoted, though none'd guess it, both were pious creatures defined by their faith.</p><p>Him with a tiger's tail and painted purloined stripes, her with her serenity and doctrine, both served and did so proudly.</p><p>Still they'd have points of disagreement.  Off hours and days off were one of them, and a deeper disagreement during one of those transgression days would follow.</p><p>It wasn't a matter of who was right, simply a matter of who would sleep better at night..</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enlightented

**The Enlightened**

 

 

It was spring, one of those quiet mornings where the kiss of dew on the blades of grass seemed magical and the birds warbling their nonsense song seemed to have gotten together the night before to practice and make nonsense into music. There was no jangle of belled boots; all was quiet… for once. Normally he'd walk across that dew his bells jingling, his faux tail catching the dew and setting a rattling wet racket behind him. For once it was quiet; he deserved a day of quiet he decided. A morning in which to just sit back, a cup of tea in hand, and just watch these little things. He sat on his porch, not garbed in white robes turned tan with the dust of a hundred hunts, he wore no ribbon of green about his shoulders, and sported no boots. He wore an earth colored short sleeve tunic, a pair of dun hued pants, and a vest with a hundred and one steel buttons. The vest was a gift of Dirk's and it was the first time since receiving it last season that he had been able to wear it. He wiggled his toes and for once could see them wiggle. It was nice the quiet, but quiet was not the best thing about having a day off. As he finished his cup Tylor decided as he went into his home that the "best thing" was that even though he had woken up early enough to enjoy the sight he was free enjoy it then go back inside for a nap.

Which is exactly what he did.

Xxx

"Can priests take a day off?" The old woman asked as she set the cup of tea down on a table. His cup, his home, her tea, he’d brewed though, being nicer than most hosts. As was her norm she was dressed in palest green robes, a white ribbon hung about her shoulders. She had come after noon service and after having a light lunch of sandwiches on the porch had come inside the house of her host.

Tea’d been their little excuse.

Tylor’s home wasn't much, one large room that was a mess of chairs, sported a tossed off rug, a stove, and a table. There was a bundle of rumpled blankets in the back corner, and a curtained off section that hid the privy pot and wash tub, but even in rural Iselia it would be called a poor man's home. Tylor would have been given more comfortable chambers and amenities in the chapel had he decided to move in like all the other priests stationed in Iselia. But this most contrary of men he had refused. Valuing privacy over comfort the strange priest had decided to stay in a glorified shack, and finally seeing the place Phardia had to wonder why.

"If the high priestess says yes, then I guess so." Tylor's emerald green eyes seemed to shine as he smiled. He knew her disgust at his bachelor life style. His house was no chapel. He worshiped Martel with his words and actions when he donned his robes. Here, where he was without them, he lived for himself. It was a minor sin, to not offer his scant few 'off' hours to the goddess, but he was too greedy to give it up. He came to this small place to relax, to be normal, shed his holy vestments and take a nap, grab a bite, and he knew just how damned lucky he was to have it. He'd lose it when he left Iselia, but that day was far in the future and beyond his immediate worries.

"Well after yesterday I imagine you deserved one day." Phadria chuckled. "A dog with a sweet tooth, who would have guessed?"

"And me with a rope of sweets tied around my butt." Tylor chuckled. "Did I cause a riot when I jumped over the fruit stand cut through the market and the Mayor's house or when I spooked the workers when I scrambled up one of his beloved plum trees?"

"No the riot” really a gaggle of giggling shocked peoples trailing along behind, there’d been no malice, thus Phadria smiled. “ was kicked off when Lloyd's dog chased you, knocked over the fruit pile in front of poor Erru's store, then ran down the market street, and then blazed through the Mayor's house dragging half of Ms. Denur's clothes still tied on her clothes line that rested in the dogs mouth."

"I wish I could of seen Erick's face when Noishe dropped all that woman's laundry in his house." Tylor ran a hand through his fire hued hair, his lips curled into a smile as he thought of the mayor having to defang Mrs. Denur, a fierce and prickly matron there’d never been. "It must have been golden."

"It was." Phadria decided it was her place to trim the younger priests good humor for the mayor's suffering somewhat. "How did yesterday's noon service go?"

"Well the birds certainly didn't appreciate me taking up so much room in their tree… but besides that it was woody, very woody."

It would be a cold day in the underworld before Phadria was the one to dull Tylor's laughter, even when reprimanded he always had a smile in his eyes that took the bite out of any would-be lecturer’s words.

"Well one mystery is solved." The high priestess said, taking a sip from her near empty cup. "Why you never invite anyone here. Now I know. You need a wife Tylor, someone to keep you organized, my own Alex was much the same until after we got married."

"Ah but I have one already…" He drew a holy talisman from under his earth hued shirt. "She's not much for house work mind you, but she's still a good lass."

"Tylor!" Phadria laughed, her face marked in wrinkles curled into a smile, and at her age the wrinkles made it look like her smile was multiplied by a goodly number. She freed up a hand and wagged a finger in his face. "We aren't supposed to talk like that; it's a bad example for the children!"

Because, old though she was, she had children a multitude though they were not of her blood. Every “youngling” that lived in Iselia was hers and they knew it.

He did not reply with words, only took her cup and refilled it along with his own. Offering what he filled he sat and then set his own cup down on the wood. Whilst sitting he leaned forward, manor stolen from grandiose plays and poorly written drama, the mischief of it lit his green eyes.Still he whispered and sh played along, tipping her head to better hear.

"You do know you _are_ talking to a man who stitched bells to his boots, ties a rope with candy filled pouches around his waist, then runs down the street every morning before the sun rises?"

"How could I forget?"

"Well I could never say old age, not to such a young ravishing beauty in the prime of her life." Tylor winked. "So I must say I forgot what you forgot so therefore it never happened because since I don't recall what you forget it gets lost somewhere between one forget and another… I think… Now I've just lost the topic… What _were_ we talking about?"

"I forgot," Phadria chuckled, "Could you be a dear and hand me the sugar please?"

"So long as I don't have to tie antlers to my head." Tylor handed her the sugar, absently turning the spoon in her direction so she could reach it better.

"That would be a sight." Phadria helped herself to that sugar, and offered it to Tylor who turned it down with a waved hand.

"Aye me, but it would confuse the heck out of the younglings. How were they for you this afternoon?"

"Well behaved, though Lloyd did not stay when he saw it was me doing the services."

"Ah, that's my standing request with him. Not too many people have tolerance for a heretic's questions." Tylor sipped his tea and looked at the shocked Phadria with a bit of something darker then mirth about him.

She’d not of expected it of him, it seemed almost alien, and made him a stranger though they were touching close.

"That word is not used lightly in our church Father Tylor." Phadria said, shaking off shock and gaining composure. "No matter the sect you serve under."

"It's the only word I know to explain Lloyd's situation… Now don't you go running after him and trying to baptize him Holyness." Tylor scolded in a voice was much to her shock as cold as her own. "He can out run and out fox any ambush any of the other priests have set for him thus far, you won’t be any different. And it's a known fact that he will bite if captured. Perhaps heretic is too strong a word, perhaps it isn't, but I see I must explain." Tylor sighed, thought for a bit and looked into his superior's eyes. He needed no clue to just how thin a skin of ice he was walking over of the moment. "Lloyd was not raised by a human; Dirk is as ignorant of the Martel faith as any can be. He teaches his boy common sense and it seems to be working out well for them. He's a good boy, restless, tries to help others, but he's about as suited to Martel as a cat is to water."

"We make ourselves suited." Phadria corrected. "Even as one as wild and untamed, as I imagine you were in your youth, can come to the embrace of the Goddess enlightened."

His laugh, like his regard, was bitter and left her aching for sugar though she’d not indulge.

"I wasn't wild in my youth, I was an uptight priest filled with visions of the Goddess Martel's plan. I _knew_ my place and the place of all those around me, and I _knew_ that I was not wrong." Tylor smiled, though it was little more than the feral baring of teeth. "I was probably the strictest, most demanding, priests of all time. Certainly my elders praised me as an acolyte for my discipline, my self-control, and complete dedication to the Goddess. There was no doubt for them that the pilgrimage would go smoothly, I'd come through it strong in my faith and serve the Goddess as an upright priest."

Phadria blinked, startled, she'd never imagined Tylor being anything but the cheerful playful man he was now. It was in her surprise that she lost her anger at him.

"It's amazing how illusions shatter, hurts like hell when I happens. Oh I had faith, but it was the faith of a glass shield, and like glass it broke." Tylor snapped his fingers. "Just like that. It happened when I met a little kid just like Lloyd. Would you believe I didn't like children back then?"

Phadria shook her head but Tylor wasn't looking at her, was staring at his cup as if visions would come from the leaves floating around in the green liquid.

"Hated them, too antsy, never could sit through a sermon, drove me absolutely wild. That kid asked one question too many and I lost my temper, cuffed him on his ear and he went away." The emerald eyes gleamed with bitterness. "Goddess I was such an ass, didn't even think about till I was long gone, I couldn't sleep and I guess it was the guilt for hitting the poor kid upside the head. Funny thing is, his mother _thanked_ me for doing it, said the boy needed more discipline since his father had been killed by the Desians..." Tylor took a long swallow of the tea and grimaced as the hot liquid went down his throat and tried to cook every inch of it. "I went off the road when I realized what was troubling me, pulled out my copy of the holy text, and I couldn't find an answer. If I've ever been double crossed it was then, and like anyone double crossed I wanted to do everything in my power to make that person to hurt. So I did. I took off my robes stuffed them in my packs and walked around the trail till some couple spotted me and gave me some spare clothes to wear. I traveled with them, told them I was on a pilgrimage, I never told them I was a priest."

"You forsook your oath!" Phadria gasped.

"It had already forsook me." Tylor grimaced. "At least that's how I felt, I kept telling myself, ' _this is the town I stop in and make a different life for myself_ ' and I'd walk right on through not stopping. Finally I did stop, my feet hurt more than my heartyou see." Tylor sighed. "It’d… been a while. So looked though my packs at my robes. And you know what, they told me a lot of things. You might say I had a series of revelations about then."

"Visiting angels, holy light, enlightenment?" Phadria asked, not realizing how she quite literally on the edge of her seat.

Tylor chuckled, failed and fought to keep a straight face.

"Well the first revelation was I had had a wine stain on the cuff of my sleeve and hadn't even noticed it."

"Tylor!" Phadria sounded torn between outrage and laughter.

Luckily for him laughter won out and she smiled albeit wearily.

"I was a priest, I couldn't just up and walk away from that. That's what I figured, after getting over the image that I had been waving my hand in blessing over people for weeks with a spot of purple on those robes. Then I realized just how stupid I must of looked conducting service and waving my hand for whole chapels full of people to see that spot. It was the first time I'd laughed at myself in years. I realized something odd too. We give up a lot. And I could go through life, giving up everything, and have nothing, or I could make the split more honest so I wasn't cheating myself. I wasn't going to be the best priest ever, but I swore I rather be a bad priest then an empty one."

"We are hollowed to be vessels for Martel…"

"Like Colette. Can you look at her and say to me honestly you don't feel bad that she's going to die? Because if you don't then leave and don't ever come back under my roof ever again."

Phadria bowed her head to hide the flush of her shame, for she had that thought even as she tucked her grandchild and read her a story.

"In that we are both poor priests." The old woman said softly.

Tylor reached across the table and pressing far past familiarity cupped her face so she was looking at him in the eyes. In this he acted as if he were the elder, her superior, and she -who was in truth both to him- a mere child.

"In that we are enlightened, for I think we might just be seeing a little better than everyone else."

"To be enlightened is to see the truth, to see Martel's truth." Old words, uniform, dictated to be spoken by the Book.

"We see by the suns light. We don't look into the sun to do so. No one can look into the sun without going blind." Tylor smiled. "I knew a drunk in Triet who literally struck himself blind trying to have a staring contest with the sun."

Phadria considered those words, that sacrilege, then stood.

"I don't know… I don't think my ways are wrong… we do what we must to save the world. To aid the Chosen and purify the world is our most sacred duty."

Tylor nodded, but when he looked at her there was a hint of doubt in his eyes, a doubt that she realized she shared.

"We might be poor priests, but better poor then empty.” He repeated, reiterating nonsense. Because it had to be, it must be. “Tell Catling I'm feeling fine, that I'm just tired from turning into "Tiger Tylor," to "Kitty Tylor stuck in a tree till two past noon with a crazy green dog barking at him,". That'll give her a laugh. I'll hang up my bell boots for a year if it doesn't."

Phadria smiled, shaking off chill of sacrilege to gift him a small smile. Trust Tylor to make her leave with one. But then if there was an unspoken motto with this strangest of priests it's that everyone he meets must leave with a smile.

He escorted her to the door, opened it like a gallant for his lady. A staple of PalmaCosta foolery really. Still she was guided and left, and maybe lingered a bit to watch him quit the porch of his home, adjusting his many buttoned vest and giving the Iselia forest a thoughtful look he considered something as noon warmed grass tickled his booted toes. Seeing her staring he waved then was gone. To the woods, and if she was to make a wager she would have figured the off duty priest to be going to pay Lloyd and Dirk a visit.

She should scold him, should write of this in her report to the Hierarchy of Voices in PalmaCosta.

She decided not to. For now.

Tapping her staff against the dusty path she picked her way back to her place, the temple. And she did not lift her gaze to bask in the Goddess as she had before. As she had walking here mere hour ago. Rather she used the sacred light of what the pagans called sun to look around.

How little the world had changed, she knew the route, could pace it even with the light blotting it out. Thus she convinced herself that nothing had changed. She _knew_ nothing had changed until she thought of her granddaughter, and then how things were different then. How twisted the straight road became. But at least now she could see a little better, for not looking up into the sun.


End file.
